


I will not be afraid

by BooksQueen



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Gen, Suffering, losing hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksQueen/pseuds/BooksQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celaena Sardothien was brought to the Endovier salt mines and... what is going to happen with her? </p>
<p>This fanfiction takes place after her first night in Endovier, shows her thoughs, feelings and how much she suffers under slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will not be afraid

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ff that i publicate on this portal. It's really short, has just two pages because I wrote it on the lit camp and it had to be short. Despite it I hope that you will like it.
> 
> I want to thank very much Morrighan M. (thunders182) for edit my work! I'm really grateful, thank you so much!

Celaena Sardothien woke up in hell. The whistle of whips, cries of pain, and endless suffering turned out to be more than just figments of her imagination, sounds which the dream gave to her. They were her reality. Crying, screaming, and eternal begging for mercy now kept her almost continuous company. Even when she fell asleep, notes like harsh music broke through the stone walls of Endovier salt mine. Cutting and destroying, they probed deep into her consciousness, not letting her fall asleep. 

Her empty stomach again protested. Her aching body didn’t want to hear the thoughts churning inside the fallen assassin’s mind. She didn’t want to pick herself up from the pallet full of worms and stinking of feces. She didn’t try to quench her thirst or move even the smallest toe of her foot, chained as she was in heavy cuffs. All she wanted was to lie there, pretending that she was dead and that nothing would be able to harm her again.

Celaena didn’t think about her pain. She didn’t want to remember the golden long hair which was cut from her. She didn’t try to remind the faces of jailers who were beating her. All she desired was to get rid of the taste of blood which filled her mouth after only minutes of torture. Celaena held her hands pressed against herself in order for none of them could touch her stinging back and check how much the whips of the king’s minions had crippled her.

She focused her mind around Sam. She thought about how exactly he happened to suffer, about all those screams that escaped from his mouth, and she knew that there was no space to beg for mercy in them. She wanted to remember Sam as the man to whom she gave her heart, as the man she loved so completely that thinking about her own suffering came easier to her than recalling the agonies which Farran put him through. Tears flowed down across the girl’s hollow cheeks as she realized the last image of her beloved, which would forever stick in her memory, would be Sam’s blue body, torn apart by the most sophisticated tortures that could come to Farran’s mind.

She weakly muffled her sobbing, in pain as her throat dried out. She slowly got up on her pallet and closed her eyes. After the first night she spent in the dark cell intended for slaves toiling in Endovier, set deeply below the ground, Celaena was afraid of living in this place for the rest of her miserable days. She was afraid of the screams. She was afraid of pain. She was afraid of death as it incessantly paced the salt mine’s corridors, lurking in hidden places for her next prey. Sam once told her about a cure for fear, a chant which tried to tear itself through the depths of her memory, but Celaena wasn’t able to remember which message his words should’ve inspired.

She knelt on the pallet and after a while she straighten, standing with her hands weighted down by heavy cuffs. How easier would it be to die, she thought, losing hope in everything that made her want to live any longer. In such a place as Endovier, it was absolutely impossible. Everything was impossible without Sam.

Celaena heard jailers pacing down the corridors, sent to drag the enslaved people to labour. She managed to stop her grimace of fear when the door to her cell opened up with crash. Two short sentences slipped out of her mouth when she looked in the men’s eyes. The spell which Sam shared with her so long ago. 

“My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, recalling his words to her, “and I will not be afraid.”


End file.
